


We Fell In Love (And Then Fell Apart)

by hajiiwa



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A lot of language, Angst, Cheating, I'm not gonna tag them though..., M/M, Mentions of Sex, about jean cheating on marco, angst served cold af, hhhhhngh I always torture my poor babies, ish, no happy ending, nothing really explicit, really just a sad af fic, some random chick mentioned super briefly, sorry - Freeform, they're pretty much it, yumikuri is mentioned literally once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiiwa/pseuds/hajiiwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco didn’t cry. He didn’t make a single sound or open his eyes until he heard the soft murmur of conversation rather than the cries and moans of pleasure, some of which were far too familiar. He forced down the bile rising in his throat as the door opened, revealing a half-dressed girl he’d never seen before.</p>
<p>The girl saw him and froze, confusion gracing her (admittedly attractive, though that didn’t matter) features. “Who’s this, Jean?”</p>
<p>“Who’s-- what?” Marco heard Jean say, and he stopped breathing the moment that Jean emerged from the bedroom.</p>
<p>Jean was dressed only in his boxers, with his hair deliciously disheveled-- a sight that Marco had seen many times before. Not once had it sickened him.</p>
<p>“<em>Marco</em>,” Jean breathed, his voice dripping with dread and shock. “What… what’re you…”</p>
<p>“I came home early, Jean,” Marco said in a hollow, yet surprisingly stable voice. “I came home to surprise you. Are you surprised, Jean? Because I certainly am. It’s not every day that I’m greeted with my husband fucking someone else.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Fell In Love (And Then Fell Apart)

It wasn’t often enough that Marco was let out of work early. On the rare occasion that he did, most of the time he spent his newfound hours of freedom running errands or preparing for the following day.

But today, Marco had something a little different in mind.

Marco remembered his husband, Jean, often complaining about how they never did anything together anymore. So, Marco decided to come right home after work and surprise Jean.

Jean had the day off that day, and Marco reckoned that the slightly younger man would be playing video games or lounging around and moping. Smiling a little at the thought Marco tiptoed up the stairs to their flat, trying to be as quiet as possible. The visual of a surprised and gleeful Jean made Marco smile widely, so still being silent, he slid his key into the lock and slowly opened the door.

The house was unusually quiet. Marco supposed that Jean might be asleep, so he closed the door behind himself and listened carefully.

Upon hearing nothing Marco tiptoed around the house, grinning like a teenager, and made his way towards their bedroom.

He was greeted with something odd on the way. Discarded near the wall was a pale blue undershirt, far too feminine and slim for either of them. Marco frowned. Maybe his cousin Ymir and her girlfriend Krista were visiting? But that didn’t seem likely, as both girls were working today (Marco had checked).

It was then that Marco heard some peculiar sounds from he and Jean’s bedroom. At first there was a low growl, one that Marco was quite familiar with-- was Jean jacking off, or something?

The idea didn’t actually seem that peculiar, since Jean was pretty much stuck at 16. Then Marco remembered the frilly undershirt and a new suspicion rose in his throat like bile.

It was not even 20 seconds later than Marco heard a sharp cry, something _far_ too feminine and high-pitched to be Jean’s. Marco lowkey wondered if Jean was watching something, but as the freckled male cautiously approached their close-doored bedroom, he saw a pair of shorts that belonged to neither of them.

A newfound panic began to blossom in Marco’s chest, soon overwhelmed by doubt and betrayal. Still being as quiet as he could Marco pressed his ear to the door, and all of his worst suspicions were confirmed.

Marco jolted backwards as if he’d received an electric shock. He felt sick, lightheaded, and more than anything, _betrayed_. He tried to calm his emotions but found himself unable to, his hands shaking badly as he squeezed his eyes shut.

_No. Not possible._

_Jean loves me, he wouldn’t do this…_

After he could no longer stomach the sounds wafting from his bedroom-- _their bedroom_ \-- he walked numbly into the kitchen and silently collapsed into one of the chairs.

Marco didn’t cry. He didn’t make a single sound or open his eyes until he heard the soft murmur of conversation rather than the cries and moans of pleasure, some of which were far too familiar. He forced down the bile rising in his throat as the door opened, revealing a half-dressed girl he’d never seen before.

The girl saw him and froze, confusion gracing her (admittedly attractive, though that didn’t matter) features. “Who’s this, Jean?”

“Who’s-- what?” Marco heard Jean say, and he stopped breathing the moment that Jean emerged from the bedroom.

Jean was dressed only in his boxers, with his hair deliciously disheveled-- a sight that Marco had seen many times before. Not _once_ had it sickened him.

“ _Marco_ ,” Jean breathed, his voice dripping with dread and shock. “What… what’re you…”

“I came home early, Jean,” Marco said in a hollow, yet surprisingly stable voice. “I came home to surprise you. Are you surprised, Jean? Because I certainly am. It’s not every day that I’m greeted with my husband fucking someone else.”

The girl knelt down and picked up her undershirt, glancing between the two men. “Jean, you never told me you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jean said in a shaky voice, his eyes never leaving Marco.

“I’m his husband,” Marco offered, his eyes beginning to water. “Jean, why..?”

The girl’s own eyes widened and she practically bolted, though neither man made a move to stop her. Jean looked almost terrified, his toned (and now scratched-up) chest heaving with the effort of breath.

“It’s nice to see that you’ve been entertaining yourself while I’ve been gone, Jean,” Marco said flatly. Tears now clung to his lashes. “Though I didn’t expect to come home seeing you fucking some random girl. She looked about _16_ , Jean.”

“She is 25,” Jean answered immediately, then cringed at his word choice. Rage built up in Marco’s chest and he tightened his hands into fists.

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t believe you would _fucking_ do this.”

“Marco, I can explain--”

“ _No, you can’t!_ ” Marco practically screamed, effectively cutting Jean off. “We promised each other, Jean! Do you remember that?!”

\---

_“Hey, Jean?”_

_Said man shifted in the bed beside Marco, blearily opening his tawny eyes. “Mmmph. Yeah, baby?”_

_Marco chewed on his lower lip, glancing over at his boyfriend. It was their first night in their own apartment and, coincidentally, Marco’s 23rd birthday. Upon seeing the distraught look on the ravenette’s face Jean said up, his brows furrowing._

_“Marco? What’s the matter?”_

_“Do you promise never to cheat on me, Jean?”_

_Jean seemed taken aback by the question. Marco recalled telling Jean how his first boyfriend had cheated on him for months, then left without so much as a goodbye. Jean had seemed shocked at the time, though not nearly as much as he did now._

_“Of course,” Jean said firmly. “Marco, I love you, I promise I won’t ever do anything like that.”_

_Marco was biting back tears at this point, but he somehow found the strength to nod. “Th-thank you, Jean.”_

_“As long as you promise to never cheat on me,” Jean said, grinning a little. Marco laughed weakly, allowing Jean to pepper his cheeks in soft kisses._

_“I promise.”_

\---

“Of course I remember!” Jean cried, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Marco scoffed. Tears had fallen from his lashes and begun to roll down his cheeks, though Jean wasn’t wiping them away how he normally did. “Okay, sure, you remember it. Did it mean nothing to you? Were you just saying that to get me to-- to--”

“No!” Jean seethed, clenching his fists. His expression was desperate, flustered, and his voice was unsteady, though none of those things aided the growing hollowness in Marco’s chest. The younger male closed his eyes and took deep breaths, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “I fucked up.”

“No, shit!!” This time it was a scream. Marco’s voice cracked halfway through and he took in a shuddering gasp, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his face into his hands. “Jean, why?!”

“I told you, I messed up!” Jean yelled, and Marco flinched. Jean had rarely ever raised his voice to him. “It was a mistake-- spur of the moment--”

“Who is she?” Marco asked, his voice deadly quiet but still shaking with emotion. “I don’t recognize her. Is she from work? Some hot secretary you chose _over your husband_?”

“She’s not a secretary,” Jean muttered. “I just-- she just-- she offered. Very blatantly. She said she didn’t care if I were married, but that her boyfriend had just dumped her and she was desperate. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, or anything-- just a one-time stress-reliever and then it would be _over_. I promise.”

Anger boiled up inside of Marco. “Oh, since your promises are clearly so trustworthy. Is that supposed to make me feel better?! H-how the _fuck_ did you think that would help?! And ‘stress-reliever’?!! Seriously?! I would do a-anything for you, Jean, just fucking s-speak up about it! I’ve _always_ … always helped…”

“Well, I’m sorry, Marco, but that doesn’t always cut it!” Jean said. “I’ve gotten so _sick_ of our routine! I had no idea that marriage was so _stifling_ , Christ… I needed _sex_ , Marco, which was something that you wouldn’t be able to deliver.”

“What?!” Marco cried. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be able to ‘deliver’ you sex? You _know_ how many times we’ve done that, right?!”

“You’ve made no such offer in months,” Jean said shakily. “I needed a little more spice than chaste kisses and cuddling in bed.”

Marco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d thought that their routine had been _perfect_ \-- in fact, he’d been planning a special kind of surprise for Jean’s upcoming birthday, but it was one that would clearly not be ‘delivered’ now.

“I am _so_ sorry, Marco,” Jean said, and now his eyes were watering too. “I realize that fucking her was the most idiotic thing I could have done, a-and I just… I don’t know why I did it. _Please_ believe me.”

“I believe you,” Marco sniffled, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

The hopeful glint in Jean’s eye vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Wh-what?”

“You cheated on me, Jean,” Marco began, his voice shaking horribly. “One thing you promised never to do. You went behind my back, and probably weren’t going to tell me. _Ever_. B-but instead I walked in on you, and-- and-- I can’t handle that. I never thought you would do something like that to m-me, but sure enough, you proved me wrong. How many other promises did you plan on breaking, Jean?”

“None,” Jean whispered hoarsely, crossing the room and taking Marco’s left hand in his own. He twisted the silver band a few times, his eyes still watering. “Marco, I-- I love you so much, please don’t--”

“Don’t touch me,” Marco said in a shaking voice, yanking his hand away and rising. “I hope that fuck was a good one, Jean, since you won’t be doing anything of the sort to me ever again.”

Jean’s eyes widened almost comically. “Marco, sweetheart, you’re overreacting,” he begged. “Let’s talk this through, okay?”

“I’m _not fucking overreacting_!” Marco screamed, his voice cracking with emotion. “You married me, promised to be faithful now and forever, only to fuck the first bitch that came along begging. End of the g-goddamn line, Jean.”

“Well-- maybe that’s a good thing!” Jean yelled. “This one-night stand was hotter than _anything I had ever done with you_!”

Whatever was left of Marco’s composure slipped away entirely. He rose so quickly that the chair fell backwards behind him, tears now streaming down his cheeks without inhibition. With his stomach churning and his head spinning the freckled male turned, fleeing down the stairs and wrenching the door open. He indistinctly heard Jean let out a string of curses and what sounded like him punching the wall, but Marco slammed the door behind himself and didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is it that I'm only capable of writing Jeanmarco angst?? Help??


End file.
